


Read All About It

by TexasRevoFan (Lemonsaresweet)



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: AU, College, F/M, Flirting, Journalism, Secret Identities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-13 21:09:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5717239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemonsaresweet/pseuds/TexasRevoFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Charlie?” Bass said to the young woman’s back. When she turned around, his breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected her to be stunning. He’d expected, well, a nerd. Or a super-organic hippie who never showered or used deodorant. Weren’t those the type of women who led student protests?</p><p>Certainly not this. Not crystal blue eyes and luxurious long hair. Not full lips and a sinfully curvaceous body that was all-too-apparent in a form-fitting long-sleeved t-shirt and tight jeans. Not a crooked eyebrow and a seductive half smile. Not the familiar spark of interest he saw flaring in her eyes as she gave him a thorough once-over before answering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Lemon for doing a last minute review of this before I posted it and helping me think through some issues. This was one of those stories that demanded to be written and caused me to neglect my family for a couple nights while I got it out of my system, so I hope you all enjoy!

Bass Monroe walked into the athletic department at the University of Philadelphia. Thirty or so college students sat or stood in various places around the lobby. Their presence would usually have been unremarkable. For the most part, they were engaged in quiet conversation or playing on their phones. Nothing about the group gave away the fact that this was a student-led protest. The fireworks, Bass knew, would come when it was time for the building to close for the day, which was in about an hour.

Bass got one young man’s attention and said, “Hey, I’m looking for Charlie Matheson?” The guy gestured to a woman with dirty-blonde hair and turned back to his Candy Crush.

“Charlie?” Bass said to the young woman’s back. When she turned around, his breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected her to be stunning. He’d expected, well, a nerd. Or a super-organic hippie who never showered or used deodorant. Weren’t those the type of women who led student protests?

Certainly not this. Not crystal blue eyes and luxurious long hair. Not full lips and a sinfully curvaceous body that was all-too-apparent in a form-fitting long-sleeved t-shirt and tight jeans. Not a crooked eyebrow and a seductive half smile. Not the familiar spark of interest he saw flaring in her eyes as she gave him a thorough once-over before answering.

“Yeah? Do I know you?” she asked, her voice as sultry as the rest of her.

Bass stuck out his hand. “Bass Monroe.” She shook it slowly, waiting for more information. “I’m, um, a journalist.” He always felt a little awkward labeling himself that way, even after all this time. “I’m here covering the protest.”

Charlie broke into a huge grin. “Great! I didn’t hear back on any of the press releases I sent out. I was wondering if any of you guys were going to show up.”

“So you’ll take a few questions from me?”

“Sure.” She gestured for him to sit down next to her on the visitor’s couch. A woman at the end of the couch listening to headphones shot them an irritated glance and scooted over to make more room.

Bass took out a notebook and opened the recording app on his phone. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked, showing her what it was. She shook her head, and he began. “Tell me a little bit about what’s going on here.”

“Um, okay…” Charlie said hesitantly. It was obvious she was not used to being the center of attention and was kind of uncomfortable with it. “Well, as you probably know, the university announced last month that a new sponsor had just bought the naming rights to our stadium. The Neville Corporation.” 

Bass tried to focus on what she was saying and not get distracted by how beautiful she looked while saying it. He shook his head, irritated at himself. It wasn’t like him to be such a goddamn amateur. There was something about this woman...

“So I started looking into it, and it turns out that Neville Corp. is one of the most evil corporations on the planet. Exploitation of foreign workers, pollution, illegal discrimination, you name it. Our school should not be accepting money from them. We’re supposed to be standing up for those workers, for good values, not selling ourselves out to the highest bidder.”

Bass asked her, “And you really think this protest is going to change anyone’s mind?”

Charlie narrowed her eyes. “No, I just figured I’d ask thirty of my closest friends to have a sleepover in an office lobby and waste a few days of their lives for no reason,” she snapped sarcastically. Bass raised his eyebrows, and she continued, “Yes, I think that this sit-in will make people pay attention to our cause, and hopefully the pressure will force the school to do the right thing.”

Bass turned off the recorder, returning his phone to his pocket. “That’s it?” Charlie asked.

“For now,” he replied.

She watched him for a few seconds, then she asked, “So I take it you don’t think this will work?”

Bass met her eyes, absurdly turned on by the defiance he saw there. This woman, he realized, had no idea who he was. Or if she did, was doing an excellent job of not giving a shit, which was probably even better.

“Let me ask you a question,” he said. “Of all of the student protests held on various college campuses around this country in the last five years, that got any media attention at all, how many would you guess were successful in getting what the students wanted?”

“I don’t know, half?”

He shook his head. “Fourteen percent.” Charlie’s face fell, and he elaborated, “I’m writing an in-depth article on student protests. And it just so happened that right around the time I was finishing my research, your little press release crossed my desk.” He stood up. “So good luck.” He left the “you’re going to need it” unsaid. Bass knew he was overcompensating for his attraction to Charlie by being an asshole, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

As he walked away to find someone else to interview, Bass glanced back over his shoulder. Charlie was still sitting on the couch where he’d left her, looking crestfallen. He felt a pang of something that might have been remorse. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so harsh. Brushing the feeling aside, he turned to the guy next to him. “Excuse me, you mind if I talk to you for a minute…?”

The interview was interrupted by the arrival of a campus security guard in the lobby door on the opposite side of the room from where Bass was sitting. “Alright, kids,” the gray-haired man called out. “Five o’clock. Time to pack it up. Go home. Nothing more to see here.”

Bass saw Charlie weave through the group of students and stand before the officer. “We’re not going anywhere,” she said confidently. Murmurs of agreement rose up behind her. Bass pulled out his notebook, not wanting to miss a moment of the confrontation. “We let the administration know, we’re here for a peaceful protest. We’re not leaving this room until they accede to our demands.”

“Accede, wow, big word,” the man said in a condescending tone. “Did you learn that one on the way from your hair appointment to your nail appointment, sweetheart?” Charlie glared at him and pointedly checked his ID badge.

“No, Officer Strausser,” she said, stepping closer to him to show she wasn’t intimidated. “And I don’t appreciate your sexist comment.”

“Is that so?” the officer said. “Well, I don’t appreciate uppity little girls trespassing on school property.” Raising his voice and addressing the crowd, he said, “All of you need to get out, now, or risk academic penalties.” None of the students made a move toward the door.

“Awww, looks like nobody is afraid of the big, bad police officer,” Charlie crooned. “Guess you’re just going to have to leave us alone.”

Strausser looked furious. “Get the hell out of here, NOW!” he yelled at Charlie, leaning in and crowding her. Bass’ face dropped. He didn’t like that one fucking bit. He placed his notebook on the table and started making his way over to the door.

“I’m not leaving,” Bass heard Charlie say in a low voice. “So if you want me out of here, you’re going to have to drag me out yourself.”

The officer was breathing hard with anger. “Administration told us we’re not allowed to forcibly remove you,” he said. Suddenly, he grabbed Charlie’s forearm hard, yanking her toward the door, “But I think in your case, they’ll make an exception.” Bass’ blood rushed with fury, and he almost knocked a couple students over in his hurry to get to Charlie, to help her.

Turned out she could stand up for herself pretty well. “Stop it! Let go of me!” Charlie yelled, pulling away and trying to twist her arm out of Strausser’s grip. She got free and shoved him away from her, causing him to stagger back a few feet and slam into the door behind him.

“You little bitch!” the cop yelled. “That’s an assault on an officer!” Bass heard an ominous “snick.” Strausser had unsheathed his police baton. Stepping toward Charlie menacingly, the officer raised it as if to strike her.

Before the blow could land, Bass reached around Charlie and grabbed the baton, wrenching it from Strausser’s grip and throwing it to the ground. Bass carefully pushed Charlie behind him, then stood facing the officer, staring him down menacingly. He wanted to beat the living shit out of the guy, but he didn’t want to spend the night in jail. So instead he just said, “You touch that girl again, or any of these people, and I swear to god you’ll regret it.”

Strausser scoffed. “Yeah? You think so? Tough guy?” He moved to retrieve his baton from the ground, and Bass stepped on it, holding it in place.

“Try me,” Bass replied evenly. This old bastard couldn’t know that Bass was military-trained, had been winning boxing matches at the gym for years. But it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Bass would destroy him in a fair fight.

Strausser grinned widely, then feigned a lunge at Bass, making a sound like a bark as he did so. Bass didn’t flinch, just continued to stare down the other man. Finally, Strausser muttered, “Fuck you, piece of shit,” and turned around. He walked out the door, slamming it so hard behind him that the wall shook.

As soon as he was gone, the students seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. Someone whooped, and a round of spontaneous cheers and a few claps broke out. Bass stayed still, watching the door for several more seconds, making sure that Strausser didn’t come back in to land a sucker punch. Bass knew the type, and this guy was it.

When he was satisfied that Strausser wouldn’t come back, he turned to Charlie. Her eyes were wide, and her face was flushed, still feeling the effects of the confrontation. Bass couldn’t help but feel like a goddamn gladiator, based on the way she was looking at him, and he liked it. Really liked it.

“Thank you,” Charlie said breathlessly. “That was messed up. God, that guy was a dick.”

Bass cracked a smile at that. “Yeah, he was. Glad you’re alright.” As he walked past her, he put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed slightly. He tried to make it seem like a casual, reassuring gesture, and not betray the bolt of lust that raced through him even at that simple touch. Too bad he was pretty sure Charlie wasn’t going to be his biggest fan by the time all this was said and done.


	2. Chapter 2

Charlie had been furious and humiliated after her first conversation with Bass. Who the hell was this Bass Monroe, anyway? It sounded like name of a front man for a 40’s swing band. And how dare he come into her protest, which she’d busted her ass for the last few weeks to put together, and basically tell her they didn’t have a chance in hell to succeed?

And why did he have to be so goddamn sexy, she thought before she could stop herself. Her body tensed just thinking about how good-looking he was. When she’d turned around to see him standing there waiting to meet her, it had been a second or two before she could even respond. He was the most viscerally attractive man she’d ever seen. The guys around campus always left her a bit cold, especially after a few bad dating experiences. But something about Bass’ intense blue eyes, curls, and scruffy facial hair was really doing it for her. Sure, he was a lot older than her, probably in his forties. But Charlie found herself not caring about the age difference. If anything, she was intrigued by it. 

If Charlie was being honest, she kind of liked the way he’d challenged her, too. She didn’t agree with what he was saying, not at all, but it was refreshing to meet a guy who wasn’t either afraid of her or trying to sweet-talk her. Refreshing and a little bit of a turn on. Okay, she admitted. A lot of a turn-on.

Then Officer Strausser had arrived. Charlie had held her own, but she couldn’t deny that she’d loved watching Bass stand up to the police officer on her behalf. Seeing how Bass had looked like he wanted to tear the other man apart had gotten her libido purring. Especially because it seemed like Bass had intervened and gotten so defensive because she was the one in trouble. Not just any student. Her.

The pressure of Bass’ hand squeezing her shoulder just before he walked away rocked Charlie all the way to her core, and she found she was instantly aroused. Feeling a little light-headed, Charlie focused on calming herself down, hoping no one else could see the effect that Bass Monroe was having on her.

Campus security cut power to the building to try to force the students to leave, so the only light in the room was the fading daylight coming in through the windows. Charlie glanced over at Bass, who was jotting something in his notebook. Her stomach dropped when she saw that he had put on a pair of glasses. He’d looked good before, but the glasses were ridiculously sexy. Charlie wasn’t sure how much more she could take. 

Then she noticed that Bass was sitting on the floor next to another student, both of their backs leaning on the wall. He had his feet flat on the floor, knees bent, looking strong and confident as he talked.

No, not just talked, Charlie realized as the thin, black-haired woman he was speaking to--Annabeth, Charlie remembered--broke into a fit of giggles. He was flirting. Bass’ white teeth flashed in a smile as he continued speaking, gesturing animatedly with the hand that was holding his pen. Charlie couldn’t stop the jealousy roiling in her stomach. Bass nudged his shoulder into Annabeth’s, and Charlie clenched her jaw. She spun on her heel and raced out of the room, ducking into the hallway that led to the staff offices, not able to stay and watch for another moment.

* * *

Bass glanced up just in time to see Charlie rush out of the room like something was seriously wrong. Concerned, he told the woman he’d been interviewing that they’d have to finish up later and set his glasses down on top of his notebook. Discreetly, not wanting to attract more attention, he followed Charlie, finding that she’d gone through a doorway that led to a long corridor.

It was almost pitch-dark in the hallway, the only light provided by what daylight streamed through the small windows in the office doorways. Still, Bass had no trouble finding Charlie about halfway down the hall. She was standing with her hands covering her face, shaking her head.

“Hey” Bass said, striding toward her. Charlie gasped and looked up in surprise at seeing him. “I saw you run out of there. Everything okay?”

Charlie nodded and straightened, taking a deep breath. Bass’ gut clenched at the sight of her facing him full on from several feet away. She was magnificent.

“Okay…” He suddenly felt like a fool for having chased after her. She must think he’s some kind of stalker, or that he had a savior complex. “Guess I’ll go get back to it.”

“Get back to what exactly?” Charlie asked snidely before he could turn away. “I mean, I just want to be clear,” she added. “Are you here for a story… or a date?”

Bass frowned at her. “A date? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I saw you talking to Annabeth,” Charlie accused. “Looked like you were after more than just a good quote.”

With that, Bass pieced together what was going on. Charlie had run off because she saw him joking around with that girl… Annabeth, apparently her name was. That had to be it. Charlie was jealous. Wait, Charlie was jealous? He studied her face and saw her lower lip pouting, her eyes vulnerable, even as her brow was knit with disgust. Definitely jealous. Now this was interesting.

Moving closer to Charlie, Bass shook his head. “I was not hitting on Annabeth,” he said in a low voice. Now he and Charlie were just a step apart.

Flustered, Charlie replied, “Oh. It looked like you were.”

“That’s not what it looks like when I’m interested in a woman,” he countered. Reaching for Charlie, he put one hand on her waist, carefully, slowly, giving her plenty of time to react, to slap him and tell him to go to hell. When she didn’t, he put the other hand under her chin, gently raising her face to look at him with his knuckle. “This is,” he concluded. And pulled her to him and kissed her.

Charlie threw her arms around Bass, running her fingers over his back, pressing her body into his. Bass deepened the kiss, loving the feel of her soft body, the taste of her sweet mouth. He felt himself growing hard, arousal throbbing through his cock as Charlie kissed him back.

They eventually parted, and he held Charlie for a few moments before she backed away, out of his embrace. She gazed up at him for a couple of seconds, looking stunned. Then, without saying a word, she stepped around him and hurried out of the hallway. Bass ran his hand through his hair, blew a breath out through his lips, and followed after her.

* * *

Once the sun went down, it had gotten almost totally dark in the room, only the light of battery-powered computers and phones, and the dim glow from streetlights outside, providing any light. Bass had hung around, typing on his laptop and interviewing more students.

Every time Charlie thought of the kiss, she couldn’t decide between feeling excited or embarrassed. It was probably ridiculous to make out with a guy within hours of meeting him, especially one who was kind of an ass. But what the hell. She was crazy attracted to him. Based on the way he stood up to the cop for her, and the fact that he’d given her the best kiss of her life, it seemed like he might sort of be into her, too.

Bass came and sat down across from her at the work table that took up the back corner of the room. He scooted in closer to her until their knees were almost touching, and leaned forward on his elbows. “Hey,” he said, a small smile on his lips.

“Hey, yourself,” Charlie said, trying to act nonchalant. “How’s the story coming?”

“Story’s good,” he said. “Do you have time for a few more questions?”

Charlie hid a grin at Bass finding an excuse to talk to her. What else could he possibly have left to ask? “Sure, go ahead,” she said, and he started recording. Under the table, she slipped her shoe off and ran her foot up the side of Bass’ calf, knowing no one could see it in the darkness. When she did, his eyes shot up and met hers, but he didn’t otherwise react. Done teasing, she lowered her foot and prepared to concentrate on his questions.

“So, you said you’re leading this protest because you’re so opposed to Tom Neville’s company’s unethical practices, right?” Bass said.

“That’s right,” Charlie said. “Do you need me to go over them again?” She was sure she had answered this already. Bass’ ruse was growing more transparent by the second.

“No,” Bass said. “But I was wondering if there’s any other reason you hate Neville Corp so much?”

Charlie was caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean? What other reason would there be?”

Staring her down, Bass said, “My understanding is that you used to date Jason Neville, Tom Neville’s son. Is that right?”

Charlie felt like a brick had formed in her stomach. She felt her face getting hot. “How did you know that?”

“So you did date Jason Neville. Who plays football for the university and is the whole reason Neville Corp is sponsoring the stadium,” Bass said, looking completely businesslike. Charlie couldn’t believe this was the same man who had kissed her in the hallway earlier that evening.

“Yeah, but, that has nothing to do with this!” she sputtered, horrified at the implication.

“No?” Bass asked, studying her like some kind of lab specimen.

“No,” Charlie insisted.

“You don’t think it makes you a hypocrite?” Bass pressed her, a slightly mocking lilt to his voice.

“What?” Charlie was too appalled to respond coherently.

“Well,” Bass said. “You were happy to benefit from Neville Corp’s money when Jason was using it to take you to fancy dinners and on weekend trips to St. Lucia. But now that you’re broken up, you want to deny your fellow students from similarly benefiting. So I’ll ask again, don’t you think that’s a little bit hypocritical?”

Charlie took a second to regain her composure. Her breath was coming fast, and her pulse was racing, but she had no trouble responding. “No, actually, I don’t. My personal life has nothing to do with this protest, and I’m not going to apologize for dating someone wealthy. I didn’t know about Jason’s father’s company when we dated, and in fact it was part of the reason that we broke up. My reasons for leading this protest are what I’ve said they are from the very beginning: because Neville Corp and its dirty money have no place on this campus.”

Standing up, Charlie looked down at Bass, who was staring at her, lips parted, looking both stunned and admiring. “And frankly, I’m insulted by the question and the attempt to discredit me based on malicious gossip. This conversation is over.”

Heart still hammering in her chest, Charlie walked away, intentionally bumping Bass’ shoulder with her hip as she passed him. She tried to ignore him from then on, but she noticed when he packed up his things and left. Despite the fact that he’d angered her with his rude and intrusive questions, she couldn’t help but be disappointed that she’d probably never see him again.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, right after sunrise, Bass made his way through the empty hallways of the administrative building, toward the athletic department. He felt as nervous as if he were going on a first date. More so, actually, because he already liked the woman in question. And she was seriously pissed off at him. Which was why he’d come with a peace offering.

Bass didn’t regret asking Charlie the questions about Jason Neville. He’d done his research before showing up at the school, and it had taken about five minutes to piece together that the leader of the anti-Neville protest was Neville Junior’s ex-girlfriend. Going in, he’d expected Charlie to give some inarticulate answer that would make it obvious she was doing this for personal reasons, for revenge. Instead, she’d stuck to her principles and put him in his place handily.

Bass refused to consider that he might have phrased the questions more harshly than he otherwise would have because he was bothered by Charlie’s relationship with the young football star. Whoever Charlie dated in the past was none of his business. Or, frankly, anyone she dated in the future, he acknowledged. But his masculine pride bristled at the very idea of her with any other man.

Bass shifted his hands uncomfortably. He was carrying two 12-cup cartons of coffee from Panera Bread in each, and the cardboard was starting to cut into his fingers. _Almost there_ , he encouraged himself. Finally, he reached the office door and knocked on it with one foot. A student peeked through the window, and she opened the door eagerly.

“Oh my god, coffee!” she exclaimed. “Is that coffee? You brought coffee for us?”

“Yeah,” Bass half-grunted, setting the heavy cartons down on the reception desk. “Figured y’all could use it.” Swinging his backpack onto the floor, he added, “Cups and sugar and stuff’s in there.” The students pounced on the supplies like a pack of ravening wolves, and Bass stepped around them to look for Charlie.

He spotted her immediately, standing off to the side of the room, staring right at him with her arms crossed. He approached her, doing his best to look earnest and non-threatening.

“Thought you left,” Charlie greeted him when they were face-to-face.

“Story’s not done,” he replied. He’d meant the one he was writing, but as he said it, he realized he also meant the one between him and her. _Easy tiger_ , he told himself, shoving the sappy thoughts out of his mind.

Charlie nodded. “Well, thanks for the coffee,” she said, still looking irritated. “I know everyone appreciates it. Think I’ll go grab some.”

Annoyed that she was blowing him off, Bass sat down at the table, popped his laptop open and started working on some editing.

An hour or so later, a guy with a nose ring sitting next to Bass exclaimed, “We’re going viral!” Charlie was at the other end of the table. Curiously, she leaned over and looked at the guy’s computer screen.

“What!” Charlie exclaimed. “Five thousand shares on Facebook? Click on that!” He did, and Bass watched with interest as both of them read. If a couple gallons of coffee hadn’t done it, maybe this would get him back in Charlie’s good graces.

“Corrupt Neville Corp Slammed in Student Protest,” the guy read. “By Sebastian Monroe.” The guy next to her kept reading the substance of the article aloud, and Charlie turned away from the computer to stare at Bass in shock. 

Making her way over and leaning on the edge of the table next to him, she asked, “You wrote that last night?”

Bass shrugged. “That’s why I left. Wanted to finish it and get it filed so it could be published by this morning.” 

“Thought I was a hypocrite,” she challenged him.

Bass looked at her reproachfully. “I’m a journalist. It’s my job to ask tough questions. I can’t forget that just because…” He trailed off.

“Because what,” she prompted, not letting him off the hook.

Meeting her eyes, Bass smirked. “Just because I like you.” He summoned every ounce of confidence he’d ever felt in his life to appear totally cool as he waited for her reaction.

Thank god, she smiled. She was damn beautiful when she smiled. “You like me, huh?”

“You’re alright. For an idealistic kid.”

The smile froze on her face, and Charlie blushed furiously. Bass could see the confusion in her eyes. Good. Forty-five years of living should have taught him a thing or two about women. That would keep her thinking about him all morning. Without another word, he turned back to his work, signaling that the conversation was over.

* * *

At 9:00, the athletics office opened for the day and conducted business as usual. The staff members largely ignored the students, stepping around them as necessary. Some threw dirty looks, others subtle smiles, making their opinions on the protest clear without saying a word.

Bass stuck around for the entire day. He spent his time working on his longer article, explaining that he could work just as well there as from his home, and he didn’t want to miss any new developments. For her part, Charlie concentrated on studying and drafting papers for some of her classes. When either of them needed a break, they would sometimes seek out the other to talk and flirt.

Throughout the day, the student group monitored the status of Bass’ news story being circulated on Facebook. By the time the office closed at 5:00, it had gotten over 200,000 shares, making Bass somewhat of a hero. Charlie’s cell phone had been ringing so constantly all day that she finally turned it off. A dozen or more reporters had showed up at the protest, wanting to talk to her. She took great pleasure in telling them off, saying that Bass Monroe was the only reporter who had cared what she had to say yesterday, so he was the only one she was going to talk to today.

The office closed at five, and the students settled in for another long night. Charlie curled up and eventually fell asleep under a window, the coldest spot in the room, not wanting one of her fellow protesters to have to sleep there. 

Charlie woke up in the middle of the night and heard the soft sound of clicking. Sitting up, she looked across the room and saw Bass sitting at the work table, still typing away at his computer, punctuating his work with drinks from a bottle of liquor that she hadn’t seen until then. She made her way over to him and sat down. Bass held the bottle out without looking at her. Taking it, Charlie took a healthy swig and set it down between them.

“You’re drinking while working?” Charlie whispered teasingly. 

“I always drink when I write,” Bass answered. “My copyeditor loves it.” 

Charlie merely rolled her eyes in response. Not feeling tired at all, she pulled out her phone. She and Bass sat together companionably as she read a book on her Kindle app for awhile, taking long pulls of what turned out to be whiskey every few pages. She could feel her limbs getting looser, though she was by no means drunk. Just happy. She glanced over at Bass a couple times, and when their eyes would meet, she thought she would burst into flames from the intensity. She thought maybe Bass wanted to kiss her again. Sure as hell, she wanted him to.

Bored with her book, Charlie started browsing Facebook. Her brother, Danny, had shared the story about the protest, with the caption, “My sister is famous! So proud of you Charlie Matheson!” Charlie smiled at that and clicked on the article. She actually hadn’t even read the whole thing yet.

Charlie started to read, conscious of the fact that the author of the piece was sitting right next to her. She was pleased to see that Bass had given a fair but somewhat favorable run-down of the protest, and that his article included links to other stories exposing the misdeeds of Neville Corp. Though it was short and obviously meant to just be an informational piece, it was a solid bit of journalism, in Charlie’s opinion. Then she got to the very end, where the website had included an author biography.

“Bass Monroe is a freelance journalist based in Philadelphia, PA. He is best known for his internationally acclaimed investigative book, Deadly Sin, published under the psuedonym Jimmy King.”

Charlie dropped her phone on the floor in shock and scrambled to pick it up. It couldn’t be right. Deadly Sin was one of the most compelling books she’d ever read. The full title was, Deadly Sin: Protest and Punishment in the U.S. Military. It was an exposé written from the inside by a high-ranking military member who described disturbing examples of cover-ups and killings he had participated in and witnessed, corroborated with other testimonials and extensive research. It had been a huge scandal when it was released, and Charlie still owned a copy. The book had been part of what had made her so interested in political activism. It had inspired her to see what could be accomplished by the voice of one man with a story to tell.

She turned to Bass and glared at him until he looked up. “What?” he said.

“You’re Jimmy King?” Charlie whispered. “Deadly Sin? That’s you?” Her voice grew in volume as she spoke. The woman who was sleeping on the table where Bass was working groaned and shifted in her sleep, nearly kicking his laptop. 

Bass sighed in resignation. “Can we not do this here? We’ll wake your friends.”

Impatiently, Charlie gestured toward the door to the hallway. She had started to trust Bass, maybe even care for him. What was she supposed to think now?

Bass led Charlie out of the room. They went into a small conference room at the end of the hall, and Charlie shut the door behind them.

“Who the hell are you really?” Charlie demanded. “Jimmy King? Sebastian--I’m sorry, Bass--Monroe? This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Hold on, calm down,” Bass said. “My name really is Bass Monroe. I published my first book under a pen name, but I quit using it recently.”

“Why?”

Bass snorted. “Why the pen name, or why’d I drop it?”

“Both.”

“Have you actually read Deadly Sin?”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, of course. My 11th grade government teacher recommended it,” she said defensively.

“Then you get why I didn’t use my real name. Couldn’t. I told my publisher it was a condition of releasing the book. I’d just gotten out of the Marines after 15 years, and I was afraid of retribution. By the military, by veterans, by anyone who doesn’t like people who tell the truth about the ugly side of the ol’ Stars and Stripes.”

Charlie considered what he’d said. “Then why come out now?” she asked.

Regret flashed across Bass’ face. “Someone sold me out. Not sure if it was someone close to me or someone at the publisher, though I have my suspicions. At that point, I had no choice but to ride out the storm. I was getting a lot of death threats for a long time, and I had to move, but now it’s pretty much died down. And I figure, if I have to deal with the negative shit, I might as well take credit for the book where I can.”

Charlie nodded. Now that he’d explained it, it made sense. But. “I guess I just feel duped because all this time, it had never occurred to me that there wasn’t a man out there actually named Jimmy King who had written this book that changed my life.”

Bass winced at that. “For what it’s worth, I am that man. The only thing that was made up was the name. I swear.”

Charlie sat down on the conference room table, her legs hanging off the edge. Bass sat, too, in a wooden chair beside her, his thigh touching her calf. After a moment, Charlie said, “The things you describe in that book, everything you’ve seen… No wonder you see me as a dumb kid.”

“I didn’t say dumb. I said idealistic,” he corrected her. Charlie made a face, and he said, “It’s not a bad thing.”

“Sure.”

Bass paused, then added, “And I damn sure don’t see you as a kid. Not like that.”

Charlie looked down at him, her hands gripping the sides of the table. “But you said…”

“I know what I said.” Bass wouldn’t meet Charlie’s eyes.

Another long pause stretched between them. Finally Charlie said, “I should… probably get back.” Even to her, it sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Probably,” Bass repeated. He didn’t move.

Charlie sighed. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?” she asked.

Finally, he looked up at her, and a hint of a smile crossed his face. “Make what easy?”

Charlie kicked her legs, biting her lip hesitantly, not answering. Bass leaned back carelessly in his chair, his legs splayed out in front of him under the table, arms crossed over his chest. He reminded her, “I already kissed you once, Charlie.”

Her heart sped up as the significance of his words sank in, and she decided what she was going to do. “Guess that means it’s my turn, then.”


	4. Chapter 4

Decision made, Charlie scooted toward Bass, then slowly slid off the table and onto his lap, straddling him in the chair. He sat up, pulling her tight to him, his hands cupping her ass. Experimentally, Charlie rolled her hips against his, and she felt pressure in just the right place. Grasping Bass’ biceps, she rocked against him again.

“Jesus,” Bass said, his voice nearly breaking. “Are you going to--”

She cut him off by mashing her mouth down on his in a desperate kiss. Bass kissed her back, moaning in appreciation as she grinded on him. Charlie could feel his erection beneath her. She bit down lightly on his lip as they parted. Putting his hands in her hair, Bass kissed along her neck, murmuring, “So beautiful.”

They continued to make out for several minutes. Charlie felt her arousal winding higher and higher until she could hardly stand it anymore. Bass reached under her shirt with warm, calloused hands and stroked her bare back, then finally unhooked her bra. Charlie tensed with anticipation as he slowly touched her everywhere but where she wanted it.

She was practically writhing in his lap when he finally palmed her breasts, and she let out a gasp of relief, it felt so good. He ran his fingers gently over her engorged nipples, kissing her as he did. Then he smoothed his thumbs firmly over them, and when she leaned into his hands, begging for more, he pinched lightly, then harder, making her squeal as he went just a touch too far.

“Sorry,” he said shortly, and she just kissed him again, rocking into his touch. He pulled her shirt up, exposing her breasts to the cool air of the room and to the heat of his gaze. He dropped his head to one nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth. Charlie tangled her fingers in his hair, scratching his scalp. Bass released her nipple, immediately replacing his mouth with his fingers, and pushed her other breast up to suck her there.

Recklessly, Charlie pulled her shirt and bra over her head, leaving her half-naked sitting astride Bass’ lap. “God damn,” he growled when he took in the sight of her. He wasted no time touching and kissing her all over. Charlie tugged on his shirt, too, wanting it off. Bass undid a couple buttons then shrugged out of it, leaving him bare chested.

“Um,” Charlie said, taking in the sight of Bass shirtless for the first time. In the bright moonlight, she could see the definition in his muscles, the smattering of tattoos decorating his body. “Wow.”

“Fuck yeah, wow,” Bass agreed, clearly talking about her. He pulled her against him and kissed her, grinding his cock up into her more insistently. “Want you so fucking bad,” he moaned.

“Yeah,” Charlie agreed readily, climbing off him. Bass reached toward her instinctively, then stopped when she began unbuttoning her jeans.

“I didn’t mean… we don’t have to…” Bass said, even as he unfastened his own pants and pulled his cock out. He stroked it, hissing with pleasure at the sensation, watching Charlie as she stepped out of her shoes and worked her pants and underwear down her hips and off, leaving her completely naked.

“Bass, please,” Charlie begged, sitting on the table and leaning back, drawing her legs up to rest her heels on the table. With predatory intent, Bass got up out of his chair, still pumping his cock with one hand, gazing at her hungrily. When he was standing before her, he pushed her knees apart, exposing her wet pussy to him. Charlie spread her legs for Bass, letting him see her, unself-conscious in her desperation for him.

Bass worked his jeans a little further down his thighs, giving his cock room. Charlie reached down and took him in her hand. He was thick and hard, and he pushed eagerly against her palm. She stroked up and down his length a few times, then scooted forward to rub his tip against her sex. “Fuck,” Bass breathed, grabbing her hips in his hands, pulling her even closer. Charlie lined him up at her entrance, and he began to sink into her, slowly, so slowly.

Charlie moaned as Bass filled her, satisfaction pulsing through her body, even as it made her crave more. When he was balls deep inside her, she flexed her hips against him, and he let loose a loud grunt, then began fucking her steadily. Charlie had never felt anything like it, like him. He was so big, and she was so turned on, she felt like she was tumbling toward the edge in seconds. It was impossible, it was too fast, but…

“Touch yourself for me,” Bass commanded, still holding her steady. “Let me see you come.”

Charlie lifted one of her hands that had been behind her, supporting her as Bass slammed into her. She licked her fingers and laid them flat against her clit, touching lightly, then more firmly as she needed it. “I’m going to…” she gasped as she felt herself beginning to orgasm. All she could do was cry out as she came, her hips bucking into Bass, a surge of wetness coating his dick inside her.

“God, baby,” Bass groaned. “So fucking hot. So fucking good to watch you come for me.” He began working his cock inside her faster. “So good… so tight, fuck…”

Charlie threw her head back and relinquished herself to sensation, closing her eyes. She had the brief, crazy thought that she was fucking Jimmy King, the man she’d secretly fallen in love with based on his words and his bravery alone. Charlie forced herself to reconcile that thought, that image, with the man holding her, the man inside her. Bass. Bass’ hands on her body, his cock buried deep. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him in for a passionate kiss.

She felt Bass’ movements getting more violent, his thrusts shaking the table beneath them. “Gonna come,” he warned. Charlie tightened her arms and legs around him in response, nodding against his shoulder. “Are you…?” he asked.

“I’m good,” Charlie said. “You can…” He hit a particularly good spot deep inside her, and she gasped, not finishing her thought. Bass’ thrusts sped up, his cock getting even harder inside her as he pounded her into the table. Bass thrust one last time, emptying himself inside Charlie with a satisfied groan, burying his face in her neck and holding her tight.

As they came back down to earth, Charlie unwound her arms and legs from around Bass and scooted back on the table. He leaned heavily on his arms and stared down at her, the black M tattooed on one of his forearms standing out as the tendons flexed. His jeans still hung low on his hips, framing his softening but still impressive cock. Charlie thought he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Then she realized she was probably getting fluids all over the table.

“Shit!” she cursed, sliding off the table and standing up quickly, scrambling into her underwear, untwisting her jeans and pulling those on too. A glance behind her showed that, thank god, there was no visible wetness on the table where she’d been sitting.

“Whoa,” Bass said, picking up his clothes and dressing at a more sedate pace. “What’s wrong, what?”

Charlie hooked her bra in place and shoved her arms into her shirt. When she was dressed, she relaxed a bit, but still felt totally embarrassed. “I cannot believe we just did that,” she explained. “What if someone had walked in? Fucking on a conference table, oh my god…”

Bass finished buttoning his shirt and grabbed both of her hands. “Hey, hey,” he said, getting her to look at him. “It’s okay. Nobody walked in.” He ran his hands up her arms soothingly, then pulled her into his chest, holding her. Charlie nodded.

“To be honest, I’m trying not to be totally offended that your reaction to sex with me was to put your clothes back on as quickly as possible,” he added. “Not the response I usually get.” Charlie had to laugh at that, and he went on, “Especially because I thought it was pretty good.”

“Yeah, pretty good I guess,” Charlie said playfully, and Bass swatted her butt in reproach. “Very good,” she admitted, shivering just thinking about it. “Very very good.”

“That’s more like it,” Bass said. “Now can we please go back out there and try to get some sleep?”

Back in the lobby, Charlie and Bass laid down next to each other on the floor, and this time Bass took the position closest to the window. They were careful not to actually touch, so no one would suspect anything. But right before she fell asleep, Charlie felt Bass run one finger over the back of her hand.

“‘Night,” she whispered in response.

Sunrise seemed to come all too soon, and Charlie woke up still tired. As her eyes focused, she saw Bass packing up his things, putting his laptop into his bag, shoving his wallet in his pocket. Charlie’s heart sank with dismay. Of course he was running off. He’d gotten what he wanted from her, played her. She’d been such a fool. Still, she wasn’t going to let him slink out of there without facing her.

“Hey,” she called out to him, since most everyone was awake by then. “You’re leaving?”

Bass turned and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Yeah, I was thinking I’d bring back bagels along with the coffee this time. What do you think?”

Charlie smiled with relief. “Bagels, huh? Aren’t you worried that will compromise your objectivity?”

Bass looked at her disbelievingly. “You think the bagels are going to compromise my objectivity?” Charlie blushed, and he continued, “I have a secret for you. There’s no such thing as objective in this work. Everyone has a bias, everyone has an angle. I’m just here telling a story as I see it.”

Satisfied with his answer, Charlie just replied, “Make sure you get some sesame seed.”

* * *

Bass spent over two hours out getting bagels. While he actually did get the food, he also made about a dozen phone calls and a few additional stops. When he finally got back to the school, everyone was so ravenous and caffeine-deprived, no one, not even Charlie, bothered to question what had taken so long.

Just after noon, the athletic director of the college came into the office. He caught Bass’ eye and gave him a nod. Bass didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure how the next few minutes were going to go, and he just wanted to get it over with.

“Everyone,” the director said after getting their attention. “I have what I hope you will consider to be good news. First of all, the university has officially decided to exit the sponsorship contract with Neville Corp.” A huge cheer went up from the students in the room. “This is based in large part on the demonstration you’ve made here, and on the public support you were able to gather for your cause.” By that time, the article about the protest had been shared over 500,000 times.

“Secondly, the release of the Neville sponsorship was also made possible by a group of generous patrons who have contributed enough to allow the university to forego selling the stadium naming rights for at least the next two years.” Another cheer from the students.

“The donors are a group of progressive authors and activists who want to show their support for your efforts and for the values of this university. The lead donor, and, frankly, the one who got all of the rest of them on board, is standing right here with us.” The students all turned to look at Bass, who was in turn staring at the floor. “Sebastian Monroe, who has personally contributed one million dollars.” This time, the director himself led the round of applause.

Bass had wrestled with whether to allow the director to tell the students he was one of the donors, let alone the amount. But in the end, he wanted everyone, mostly Charlie, to be able to judge him with full information. He was done with anonymity, done with hiding.

The director’s speech continued with an explanation of the logistics, when the contracts would go into effect, and what it meant for the athletics program. Bass looked up cautiously now that the attention was off of him, and he saw that just one person was still staring at him. Charlie.

Her expression was unreadable. Was she happy? Whatever, he tried to convince himself. He hadn’t entirely done it for her. U of Philadelphia was a good school, and he really did hate Neville, too, and the whole thing was tax-deductible, but… okay, he’d done it for her.

The director finished speaking, and several of the students immediately turned to Bass and thanked him for everything he’d done. He acknowledged them graciously, but in a way that didn’t prolong the conversation. Finally, he made his way over to Charlie. She met his eyes but didn’t say a word.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Charlie said. “Is this like, you donate a million bucks and I have to be your girlfriend or something?”

“What!” Bass was both disgusted and offended. “Are you serious? Of course not.” He struggled to calm down, then said, “It just… seemed like the right thing to do.” In response to her skeptical look, he admitted, “And I thought it would make you happy.”

“And that’s what you want?” Charlie asked. “To make me happy?”

He had no choice but to admit it. “I guess I must.”

Finally, a huge grin spread across Charlie’s face. “I can live with that.”

Bass smiled, and said eagerly, “Yeah? Alright. So… what are you doing the rest of the day?” He’d love to take Charlie to a nice lunch, or, hell, to St. Lucia. Show her he could take care of her far better than that punk Neville.

Tilting her head in thought, Charlie said, “Actually, what sounds really good right now is a long, hot shower.”

“I have a shower at my place,” Bass offered. Hot water, fragrant soaps, naked Charlie. Yes, this seemed like a good plan.

It appeared that Charlie agreed, because she put her arm in his and said, “Lead the way.”

_Two years later…_

PHILADELPHIA (AP) - Sebastian Monroe, 47, author of internationally-acclaimed book Deadly Sin, was married to Charlotte Matheson, 24, political advisor to Pennsylvania Senator Nora Clayton. The couple was married on the second anniversary of the day they met, at a student protest that inspired Monroe’s current New York Times best-seller, Age and Activism. The couple resides in Philadelphia.


End file.
